


Concussed

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [178]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux isn't happy that Kylo took the hit for him.





	

He has no right. No damn _right_. What was he thinking? He’s the Great Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights. He’s strong with the Force, both Light and Dark. He’s the grandson of Darth Vader himself, and he’s… he’s supposed to… he’s not supposed to get _hurt_.

He can stop fire with the lift of his hand, can make gravity redundant, can explode a man’s blaster, or even his mind. He’s… he’s… _deadly_. He’s _dangerous_. He’s _perfect_ , in every way (even with his flaws), and he had to go and get himself injured.

Which is, of course, Hux’s fault. He’d slipped up, he’d made a mistake, and it’s almost only luck that they’re in this shuttle, flying madly away from the bolts of death the enemy are still raining down on them. Hux fucked up, and he was too confident and cocky, and now Kylo’s black robes are scorched into his hip, and his mask is broken around the mouth, and he’s a dead weight in Hux’s arms. 

The troopers are all busy flying, shooting, dodging. Since Hux had dragged Kylo’s unconscious body aboard, no one had dared come close to them. Hux can’t blame them, as his anger and fear responses are flooding his system so much that his hands shake, and he can feel the ache in his shoulders from pulling him to ‘safety’. Kylo is not a small man, and he’s not sure where he found the energy to retrieve him like he did, but he _had_ to get him safe.

After all, he’s bloody injured because he went and jumped into the fray to save Hux. 

This is. All. His. _Fault._

The mask won’t come off, the bends and twists have jammed the catches shut. The force when his head smacked into the duracrete had warped it inside, and Hux can’t tell if his face is hurt or not. He’ll likely have concussion when (when! WHEN!) he comes to. He’s… the scanner says his oxygen saturation is fine, and the burn will need to be cleaned and patched properly, but the wound is cauterised and he’s at no risk of bleeding out. He applies as much Bacta as he can, before he starts trying to cut the fabric away from his wound. The shot of antibiotics will help prevent anything taking hold, but his hands shake too much to clean him properly, and he has to stop, and just hold him.

_And they could go down at any moment. They could be shot from the air, and the last thing he’ll know is–_

NO. They **will** get out of this.

His hands cradle the masked head, and he rocks them back and forth, trying to comfort himself. “You fool… you idiot… when I get you home, you’re not leaving the room for a year…”

Longer, if he needs it. Anything to keep him safe. His hands stroke over the familiar curves of metal shot through black, and he curses them. Please. Please be okay. He doesn’t know what he’d do without him… he doesn’t think he can _be_ without him. A lifetime of self-sufficiency, and he has to go and find the one person who could make him feel like this. 

Kylo. Kylo. He calls his name, low and urgent, and refuses to budge from his knees, with the man lying across his lap. Kylo. Wake up. Wake up. 

There is no Hux, not without Kylo, not any more. He isn’t sure who he would be alone, but it isn’t _him_ , and so it’s not worth knowing. This man, with his goofy smile that means Hux can’t ever truly take his threats to their enemies one hundred percent seriously. The way his hair goes poof and floof after towel-drying. The way his feet were always warm in bed. The power in his chest when they cuddled. The way his whole body shook when he laughed… 

The look in his eyes, over breakfast. Over the pillows. Over anything. The way his adoration makes Hux feel worthy, somehow. Burning inside with the need to be what Kylo sees in him, to keep his eyes smiling. The need to make him _happy_.

 _Come back. I can’t do this without you_. 

Somewhere along the line, he became the reason, not the method. It shakes Hux to realise it, but it’s true.

_Come. Back._

Kylo’s chest heaves, and Hux watches through tears. It’s a long flight home.


End file.
